Life
by Heptagon
Summary: One battle, two warriors. One room, two enemies. One moment stolen from reality... Will the words spoken change anything at all? Life, after all, is a mystery..


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

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**Life**

He was standing in the middle of the room, still and quiet like a stone statue looking intently in front of him. The cries of death and war seemed distant and muffled and in his ears they had ceased a long time ago. Moonlight poured in from a small window to his left falling directly at him, making his pale face and blond hair glow as liquid silver. Once in a while an escaped curse flew over the sky like a brightly-coloured shooting star briefly casting the same hue to the little room before letting it restore its original blackness and silver.

A shadow entered and lurked in dark corners making a full circle around him before showing itself. When it did so by stepping into the moonlight it appeared to be a tall boy with messy black hair, emerald eyes behind round glasses and an odd scar the shape of a thunderbolt on his forehead. His right hand held a raised wand that was now pointed to the figure at the centre though he didn't hurry to use it. Instead he spoke out in a soft but firm tone.

"You know what it is?"

The figure did not turn nor move his glance but remained just as still as he was as if not hearing what had been said. But he did hear or at least became aware of somebody's presence, and his next statement proved it.

"Don't you have anything else to do? Anywhere else to be? Kill someone or get killed yourself?" His voice was calm and emotionless except for the longing to be left alone.

"You know what it is?" the other one repeated his question and moved closer, now standing almost behind him, staring at the old mirror covered with dust and cobwebs in front of them.

"It's the Mirror of Erised," he answered at last.

"You know what it does?"

"It shows one's deepest wish."

"Yes, that it does," he confirmed and circled round the mirror and the figure staring at it, coming to stand behind him again, only to the other side this time. A flash of green light fled past the window adding a touch of green to the silver of the room. Harry watched it go, briefly wondering whether it was an Avada Kedavra and who had cast it on whom.

"What do you see?" he asked when the curse had disappeared from sight.

He didn't answer.

"Victory of your Master?" he suggested. "Victory of Darkness? Death and Destruction?"

"No," he slowly shook his head. "I see life."

Harry did not ask further. Instead he glanced into the mirror and sighed: "I used to see myself with my family."

"Now you see the Fall of Voldemort." It was not a question, but a fact.

"Yes," he confessed and made another circle in the opposite direction.

"I see the Fall of Voldemort," he continued thoughtfully. "I see him fall. I see my task fulfilled. I see myself finally being at peace."

He stepped up to the mirror and ran his index finger along its smooth surface.

"I see Voldemort falling, falling and taking me with him. So that I could finally rest in peace."

He didn't reply to this in any visible way.

Minutes of silence passed by, occasionally disturbed by a louder cry that penetrated the magical curtain which muted the outside noise, and the silver in the room shone in different colours when a spell or curse flew by.

Finally Harry tore his glance off the mirror, although he hadn't been actually looking at it but thinking.

"I suppose I should go," he stated. "Things to do, places to be, dark wizards to kill and be killed by."

Without another word or glance at the other figure, he walked to the door and placed his hand on its knob.

There he hesitated and said without turning around: "That isn't life – that is only a dream. Life is there, outside this room, filled with Death and Destruction."

He pushed the door open.

"Potter!"

Harry shut the door again and turned to face him.

He had finally moved and was now looking him straight in the eye – silver meeting emerald. They held the gaze for one long moment during which more was exchanged than in the last seven years. It was nothing more and nothing less than simply telling everything – and a flickering light of understanding lit in both silver and green just before the gaze was broken.

"Perhaps bringing down Voldemort is your task to fill," he said, looking out of the window now.

"But there's no need to bring yourself down as well. There will be life for you after the Fall of Voldemort. Life and peace and happiness."

Harry nodded slowly in an absent manner, finally leaving the room currently bathing in silvery red and the lone figure in front of an old mirror.

Left alone in the room, the figure sighed and closed his eyes and stood at the spot for one more moment.

He, too, had things to do, places to be, dark wizards to defend and people to kill.

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**A/N **This story was inspired by cyropi's "A Fetching Shade of Pain" which I immensely enjoyed and re-watching HP first movie.

I am aware that the situation of the story might seem too staged and unreal but I rather like it this way. :)

Reviews are welcome! ;)


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